Chapter Two

"I was never a cheater. Never in my life. I dated tons of guys, I was the reigning queen of popularity, but I never cheated. I never cared that much. If I liked another guy, I would dump the one I was with and go with the other one. I never felt bad, because I didn't love any of them.

In my twenty nine years, I've loved exactly two. Two in 29 years. It seems like very little, but the truth is, it was too much.

I loved my demon lover with a fervor that scared even me, and then, when I returned to the arms of my mortal one, I never stopped.

I never thought it was possible to love two men at the same time, but I know now that fate doesn't work in those neat circles.

I'm with Xander now, and every day I'm the perfect girlfriend, the perfect fiancé. Because he tries so hard. I can see it in his eyes, the urge, the means to try and make things right, to try and love me, keep me safe.

I love him for it. I smile and act like everything's okay, and it is, to a point. I'm happy with Xander, I love Xander.

But these dreams. These dreams that start as soon as my eyes close, and I'm with him, I feel him, I sense him.

It's not Xander.

Every night, in my dreams, I cheat on Xander, I'm with Angel, and I feel horrible, because I think he knows it. How can he not know it?

Oh, God, Xander, I'm so sorry. I don't know why. I don't know why I still dream about him."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Xander." A trace of annoyance was in Cordelia Chase's voice as she sat, her eyes following him around as he moved back and forth around the living room. He didn't glance in her direction as he picked up the throw pillow and shook it violently. She tried again. "Xander."

This time he looked up, before resuming his activities. She sighed, a loving frown of amusement on her face.

"Xander, it's just Willow and Oz, okay?"

At this he straightened. "No, it's not JUST Willow and Oz. Its' WILLOW and OZ." He corrected.

She raised a perfect eyebrow. "Not seeing the difference, dorkhead."

His shoulders slumped as he looked at her. "Come on, Cordy. These are our high school buddies."

"Correction, YOUR high school buddies. My.... semi ... friends."

"You're not excited about seeing them?"

"Course I am, but I just don't see why you're turning into Mrs. Doubtfire. The apartment is clean. Stop going nuts."

She reached out a hand, beckoning to him, and with a small smile, Xander came forward, settling next to her, gathering her in his arms.

"It's been years. And they've got kids!"

"I know." Cordelia said softly, her eyes closing for a minute.

There was a moment of silence, and then he squeezed her softly. "What do you think our kids will be like?"

She gave him a small smile. "Perfect in every way."

He nodded, his eyes glistening for a moment as he studied. "And all because of you." He smiled, leaning down to kiss her once. He raised his head, and for a minute he seemed hesitant. Finally he began.

"Cordelia... about the move."

She felt her heart beat accelerate, and she pulled away. "Can we not talk about that?"

"Don't you think we need to?"

She shook her head violently. He wanted her to forget, just to move away with him halfway across the world and forget, just like that. She couldn't do that. Not yet.

"I'm not ready to move, Xander. I'm sorry. I'm not." She finally said, her voice almost cold.

There was silence, she didn't look at him, for fear she would see the blatant accusation in his eyes she knew had to be there.

The doorbell rang, breaking the stillness and he sprang up. "They're here! Okay. Okay." He ran out of the living room like a five year old at Christmas. Cordelia, grateful for the intrusion, watched him go with a thoughtful expression on her features.

Xander was acting odd. He was too nervous, this was just Willow and Oz, and he was acting like it was a visit from the pope. It was like he wanted it to be perfect, wanted it a little too much. This visit was like a symbol to him, that everything was okay now, that the last ten years had been re-written, that he had never cheated, that they had never broken up, that she had never been engaged to another man. Never loved another man. It was desperation, and it scared her that it affected him this much.

Cordelia just felt numb. She was excited to see them, that was true, but along with the arrival of Willow came an incoming sense of dread. Every day, it was a daily struggle to attempt to forget about Angel, about what they had shared, to forget his sense, his touch. She would lose herself in Xander's presence, and every day, she almost succeeded. She loved Xander.

But Willow had been there, those five years ago, that first night, Willow had understood, Willow had shared the longing, she had seen the love and the passion, and the last thing Cordelia needed was to be reminded of that, to see the question that she knew was in Willow's eyes, the question of why, of what happened, or even worse, of I told you so.

Sighing, Cordelia rose, running a hand through her hair as she prepared to meet her oldest friends. On her face was a plastic smile. It was time to do the acting thing again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He leaned against the wall, his eyes closed, his arms crossed, his head slumped forward on his chest. To the average person, it would appear that the Irishman was sleeping.

He wasn't. Doyle was in a deep state of thought. At that moment, Doyle felt extremely old.

The day that Cordelia had left, without a goodbye, without a word, he felt as if his very heart had been torn out. He loved Cordelia, as a friend, as a sister, as a fantasy.

She was his very world, and if he could have, he would have followed her anywhere. But his obligation was to Angel, the brooding vampire who had returned to the arms of the Slayer.

He hadn't given her a chance, the day he met her, the day Angel explained, in haunted tones, what had transpired, why Cordelia had left, Doyle had seen the very embers of happiness, or passion, die in Angel's eyes.

For ten years, it had been Angel and Cordelia. Now, with Angel and Buffy, Doyle just felt numb. Every second he looked at Buffy, the only thought that came to his mind was that she wasn't Cordelia.

She had exactly two things in her favor. One, she was a Slayer, two she loved Angel.

Doyle loved Angel as a brother, and as a son. When he had lost Cordelia, Doyle had felt his pain, felt his loneliness that he tried to forget, every pain, every ember he felt along with him.

Now it appeared that he would lose Angel too.

It was too much. In the last ten years, Doyle had finally felt that he had a home. He felt as if he belonged. The three outcasts who had never fit in, fit in with each other.

The door opened, and he raised his head to see Buffy walk through. On her face was a haunted resilience, as if she was trying to hold on to her sanity by her last thread.

"He won't let me near him. It's like he doesn't even know me anymore."

"No luck either?"

She shook her head. "He's not getting any better." She remarked slowly, her eyes moist as she crossed her arms. "I have no idea what it is."

Doyle closed his eyes again. This couldn't be happening. They were at a complete loss. There was nothing either could do. Angel was going to die.

Suddenly he jerked away from the wall. Buffy looked as he pulled on his brown leather jacket and headed to the door.

"What are you doing?" She asked softly.

He didn't even look at her as he responded. "To get the one person that might know something."

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